“How smart he is.” Fair rubbed his chin.
“I would have never thought of the parent nations, for lack of a better word.” Harry enjoyed watching the slight flutter of the flags.
The pyracanthas stood out from the stone building that Herb could see from his office. Clear fishing line had been set up so the branches would grow on it, creating straight horizontal lines. The church side of the quad, covered in wisteria that had already bloomed, offered deep shade. In glorious symmetry, St. Luke’s looked especially beautiful today.
Elocution, in her office window, looked out. None of the cats appeared eager to mix with screaming children all waving their little flags.
Pewter stopped under the window. “I’ve had a horrible day.” Whether or not any of the other cats wished to hear Pewter’s lavish lament wasn’t going to stop the gray fatty from going on and on.
Mrs. Murphy, in contrast, stuck with Tucker, who loved children. This canine affection was returned. One little boy gave Tucker his flag. The dog patriotically ran all around the quad, flag in mouth.
On long wooden picnic tables in the middle of the quad was true summer picnic fare. Miranda, although not a Lutheran, had helped with all that. Everyone attended this gathering: Catholics, Baptists, Jewish families from the temple in Charlottesville. Flag Day at St. Luke’s was not to be missed.
The veterans saluted the flags at a short ceremony before food was served. Victor Gatzembizi was an Air Force veteran, though he had not seen combat. However, heroically enough, he now paid for transportation for those elderly vets who might otherwise have difficulty attending. Mostly their families brought them, but some lived in nursing homes.
Sipping a cold one after the ceremony, Fair slapped Victor on the back. “Thanks. Having those World War Two veterans here is an inspiration for the rest of us.”
Latigo strolled over. “Vic, I’ll be sending you more work after the holiday.”
Fair wasn’t sure if Latigo was joking or not. “What do you mean? You think there’ll be more accidents from Flag Day? It’s not a drinking holiday. Not like Memorial Day,” Fair remarked.
“Any holiday is an excuse,” Latigo replied in an even tone. “I was actually thinking about the Fourth of July. Always a lot of accidents then.” He asked Fair, “You didn’t serve, did you?”
“No, I headed straight to vet school after undergraduate. I often think I missed one of life’s central experiences—for men, anyway.”
“All I heard was ‘central experiences.’ ” Yancy Hampton joined them.
“Didn’t serve in the military.” Fair drained his longneck.
“Navy,” Yancy stated. “I’ve even been thinking about going back in. They’re offering tempting packages to those of us who made captain or above.”
Victor’s eyebrows raised. “I learned a hell of a lot in the Air Force. I was in transport and they taught me about engines. But you’d go back? Why leave a thriving business? And, hey, it’s the assholes above you and the idiots below.”
“That’s anywhere.” Yancy waved his hand dismissively. “I’d go back to get away from home. Next weekend is my daughter Stephanie’s wedding. Around my house there’s been just about as much estrogen drama as I can handle.”
Latigo’s daughters were the same age as Stephanie, all the girls having attended St. Anne’s. “Stephanie’s pretty reasonable.”
“It’s Barbara.” Yancy mentioned his wife.
“Ah, yes, mother of the bride.” Victor whistled, then added, “Good luck, Yancy. Fair, I’m going to tempt your wife.”
Harry had walked by with a few other vestry-board members.
“She tempts me daily.” Fair smiled.
“WRX STI. Great deal.” Victor started to move in Harry’s direction.
“You’ll torture her,” Fair rejoined.
“I know.” Victor left as the three other men watched.
Yancy turned to Latigo and got down to brass tacks. “Do natural disasters greatly affect your business?”
“Yes,” Latigo replied seriously. “Any disruption affects insurance, but I don’t have the kind of massive claims that life insurers or property insurers do in situations like floods or tornadoes. In ways, auto insurance is pretty cut-and-dried because we have the blue book to value our cars and trucks.”
Yancy, drink in left hand, slid his right hand into his pants pocket, jingled keys. “Because I buy some crops ahead of harvest, like futures trading, I factor in weather. Not that you can predict anything with accuracy, but large changes like El Niño, stuff like that, I factor it in. Every little thing can affect harvest for good or for ill. ’Course, I don’t think there ever was insurance for corn worms.” He took a sip.
Fair listened with interest to Latigo’s reply. “As you know, the government does offer some insurance for crops—”
Yancy interrupted. “Better than nothing, I suppose, but I’d hate to depend on it.”
“Me, too. The payment is always inadequate to the damage, and there’s plenty of people who will tell you the same thing about auto insurance. We undervalue their cars, undervalue repairs, use less-skilled labor. The funny thing is, NHTSA—the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration—hasn’t had an update on wheels since 1974. Back then wheels were steel. So we’ve got some seriously outmoded standards.”
“Well, that just might make it easier for you to be dishonest,” Yancy impolitely answered.
Stiffening slightly, Latigo said, “I’ll assume the ‘you’ applies to the industry and not me personally. Actually, what creates problems is people expecting the government to take care of them. Well, if wheel standards are damned near forty years old, isn’t it clear either they don’t care, or they don’t know enough to care, or they’re too venal to care? I know that safety standards are vastly different for a steel wheel than for one made primarily of aluminum. When my field agents assess damage and repair costs, I can tell you they’re far more accurate than any federal goon ever is.”
“Didn’t know about that,” Yancy simply replied.
“People have no idea, no idea at all.” Latigo laughed derisively.
“The technology changes so rapidly. How can you keep up with it? I know the government can’t.” Fair was curious.
“Fair, let me tell you something.” Latigo, one inch shorter than Fair’s six foot five, looked level at him. “What’s changed is computers running cars. Engines haven’t changed. Alternators haven’t changed. Fan belts haven’t changed. The internal-combustion engine is about perfect. Materials change. Oh, maybe the angle of setting an engine under the hood will change, but a piston is a piston.”
“Never thought of it that way,” the vet replied.
“I have a garage full of great cars. My Porsche 911 is a little bit of heaven. I have a gorgeous old restored DeSoto. Walt Richardson restored it, actually. I have my own muscle cars, and for my wife I bought a 1957 Thunderbird in aqua and white. I love cars, I love engines, and I love insuring them. What I don’t love is my industry being demonized, made into a target.”
Yancy was thoughtful. “If I have one misshapen grape in a bunch, someone will call Albemarle’s health inspector on me. I wasn’t kidding when I said the Navy looks good again.”
Fair, dangling his longneck bottle, asked, “Latigo, what would you say is the real purpose of insurance?”
Right back at him, Latigo said, “To spread risk. We’ve had forms of insurance since the second millennium B.C., and the purpose is always to spread risk.”
Just then Harry trotted up to her husband, pulling him away from Yancy and Latigo.
“Honey, you’re a little flushed. Do I look that good to you?” Fair teased.
“Victor Gatzembizi is the devil himself. Twenty-seven thousand dollars for the WRX STI. The loan would be about twenty-three thousand if I went to the bank. Of course, I’m not even thinking about it. Given all that Nick put in it, that’s an incredible price. Fantastic car. Great reviews in the car mags. He’s ruined my day.”